Shades of Grey
by Rory9
Summary: "There is no black or white, only shades of grey" H/D slash.
1. Shades of Grey

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. J.K. Rowling does. Go ahead and sue me if you want... although you won't get much out of it. I have 3 dollars in my bank account.  
  
Author's Notes: This is my first fic.. so excuse the crappiness. Sorry for any OOCness and such. I try my best.  
Thanks to Crystal, my beta.   
Warning: This contains SLASH otherwise known as boys who have feelings for other boys. If you're a homophobe then go away. :-P   


  
Shades of Grey  


  
I've known that I was bisexual for quite a long time. It was a shock when I first found out. I had had crushes on girls, Cho Chang for example, so I assumed that I was straight. When I was 15 I developed a crush on my best friend. Bisexuality had always been a possibility, but it wasn't expected. It was strange when I developed this crush on Ron. Every time I was around him I wanted to hold him, to kiss him. We started to drift apart slightly because of the great secret that I was keeping from him. I would dream about him telling me that he felt the same. When I thought about it consciously I realized that I would never really want to do anything with him. It would undoubtedly ruin our friendship, which was something that was very precious to me. I never told him about these feelings, and like any teenage crush, they faded with time. Although the feelings are entirely gone now and my friendship with Ron is back to what it once was, the memory of this crush stands out in my mind. This was the first time that I fell for another boy.   
  
As strange, and terrible as it was having feelings for Ron, the second boy that I fell for was twenty times worse. This was like a strange kind of hell. First of all, these feelings were much stronger, instead of just wanting to kiss him and hold him I wanted to pin him against the wall and do unspeakable things to him, I wanted to tell him things about myself that I had never told anyone else. The second problem was who he was, who his father was, what house he was in. These might seem like separate problems, but they weren't. The second boy that I, Harry James Potter, ever had feelings for was Draco Lucius Malfoy, a Slytherin and the son of a Death Eater. I don't know how it happened, really. One day I was thinking up new ways to hurt him, the next my mind kept wandering to unbidden thoughts of how great he would look in leather. It wasn't all that sudden though, I suppose. I started feeling this rush every time I saw him. Like a chill, it was warm and cold. It was the most amazing thing I had ever felt in my life. It was so much more than those little crushes on Cho and Ron. It was this intense feeling of pain mixed with pleasure.   
  
I suppose that it was fitting, in a way, that only he could evoke these intense feelings in me. He had always been able to get me to feel more than anyone else... even if the bulk of those feelings had been negative. Every night I would lie awake for hours, wishing for it to go away. I wanted to be able to control myself, but it seemed that the more I tried to fight my feelings, the stronger they became. Even once I gave in to my feelings there was nothing I could do. It wasn't as if I could just go up to him and say "Hey Malfoy, want to snog?" That would be ridiculous even if I said it any other way. Draco already hated me, so not much damage would be done in that regard, but he would undoubtedly tell the whole wizarding world. I would be known as Harry Potter : The Boy who Lived an Alternate Lifestyle. I would be shunned by the countless homophobes in this world. Although I'm sure many people would be accepting of me, I didn't want to disappoint them - no matter how much I hated my fame, I wanted to prove myself worthy of it. As the Sorting Hat had told me in my first year of Hogwarts, I had a thirst to prove myself. It was one of the things that almost put me in Slytherin, I suppose.   
  
I can remember a thought that surfaced in my mind quite commonly around then. I remember thinking about how nothing was the way that it appeared. Everything had layers. That maybe everything wasn't black and white, good and evil. That maybe Draco wasn't so different from me in the first place. That we might share a common ground, away from the black and white. Among the shades of grey. Starting around the fifth year, Draco started changing. I didn't notice at first, but he started drawing into himself. He was still just as much of a git around my friends and I, but he started to become more reclusive around the Slytherins. As always, he was flanked by his lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, but he seemed less interested in them than usual - not that he ever really seemed interested in them. I began to wonder what his life was really like. I wondered if he was really only the spoiled rich boy that I knew him as. I didn't understand anything I was going through then - I don't really now, either - but I wonder if my heart sensed his pain before my brain did, or if I was just trying to logically justify my feelings. Either way, I started to pay more attention to him. Which I suppose makes sense, considering I was falling in love with the slimy git. The more I noticed Draco Malfoy, the more I thought about how we weren't so different. I'm not sure exactly when accepted the fact that I was falling for Draco Malfoy, but it took a while.   
  
At the time I thought nobody knew. I was too wrapped up in myself to notice the odd comment from Ron or Hermione that would have hinted otherwise. They both knew me too well not to figure it out. They weren't about to confront me though, they knew that I would tell them when I was ready. I did tell them, eventually. They told me later that they discussed it on their own, so as not to embarrass me.  
  
One day, near the end of fifth year, I was walking around the school at night and I saw him. He was sitting on the railing of a balcony that I liked to visit occasionally, staring up at the moon. The light bounced off of his silver blond hair. It was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen. I gasped. That small sound altered my life forever. I gasped, and Draco Malfoy turned around. His face was covered in tears. I then did something that I would never have expected myself to do. I pulled off my Invisibility Cloak, bridged the gap between us, and put my arms around him. Seeing him with tears on his face made me want to protect him. Everything after that is a blur, but shall I just say that we found our shades of grey.  
  
**"Harry Potter : The Boy Who Lived an Alternate Lifestyle"** was taken from some great fic... that I can't seem to remember the name of. Truly excellent. I read too much fanfiction and it all gets muddled together.   
This whole fic is loosely based on the phrase "There is no black or white, only shades of grey." which I found in another great fic, at least I think I did... it had to have come from somewhere.   
If anybody knows where those come from originally or notice any other references that I made subconciously, email me at glitter_girl_1986@hotmail.com and tell me about it. Thanks, Hannah. 


	2. Concealing Light

  
Disclaimer: I donÕt own any of these characters. J.K. Rowling does. Go ahead and sue me if you want... although you wonÕt get much out of it. I have 3 dollars in my bank account.   
AuthorÕs Notes: This is my first fic.. so excuse the crappiness. Sorry for any OOCness and such. I try my best.   
Thanks to Connelly, my brilliant beta. :-D   
Thanks also to those who reviewed my last chapter : From here : Alysun and Mikhaila and from FAP Hibiscus, Ayala Pascal, Aurora Malfoy, *~*Shinigami_Star*~*, Eerie, Regretful, azriona Aleena Malfoy and dewi.   
Feedback is greatly appreciated, as I am a review whore. *grin*   
Warning: This contains SLASH otherwise known as boys kissing other boys. If youÕre a homophobe then go away. :-P 

**Shades of Grey : Chapter 2  
**  
I've never been the type to dwell on my emotions. They were something that I separated myself from so as not to let them govern me; if I was feeling something other than hatred I wouldn't notice. It was a skill perfected over years of practice; it was a skill that I, along with everyone else in the Malfoy clan, prided ourselves on. Emotions caused weakness emotions allowed people to dominate you, to gain the upper hand. My father had taught me well. I had been taught to never show or feel emotion in the presence of other people, I had been taught to radiate confidence and charisma, I had been taught how to be a Malfoy. It's not as if I was a slave to the Malfoy name, I wasn't, I had the freedom to choose not to follow our rules as long as I was prepared to deal with the consequences. These consequences were not violent, but basically, if I were to shame the Malfoy name in public then I could give it up.  
  
When I was around people I could keep up my facade well enough. When I was alone it fell apart : I was left as the awkward, insecure teenage boy, I would start crying uncontrollably. Some people think that Malfoys don't cry, but they're wrong : Malfoys don't cry where they can be seen. The first few years I was at Hogwarts, I managed to control my tears until I was hidden away in my bed and sure that all of my house mates were asleep. It was then that I thought about my emotions; it was as if I was opening a door in my mind and everything that I felt came streaming in at me. It would hit me, and all I was able to do was cry.   
  
I would feel shame for not being the Malfoy my father wanted me to be, for not being at the top of my class. I would feel guilt for all of the bad things I had done in attempting to become this Malfoy. Most of all though, I felt empty, and I wasn't sure what it was that I was missing. It was funny how it worked, during the day I was dark and foreboding, my classmates either feared or hated me, or both. I was something inhuman to them because I had no emotion. In the confines of darkness I was just a normal person, a good person even. At night, I shone. I tried my hardest to make sure no one ever saw that person, because if they did, I might not have been able to put my mask back on.   
  
As I grew older the pain became more intense. I had more issues to deal with than my relatively carefree childhood. I had to deal with the fact that my friends didn't really know me, or like me for who I was. I had to deal with the fact that nobody would ever really know me, which was a fact that I used to pride myself on. When Voldemort came back to power I was forced to do things that my conscience couldn't handle. I was forced to spy, torture and kill. I was too young to be given my Dark Mark, but I knew that that day was fast approaching. And worse yet, my house mates were staying up later; I had to wait longer every night to open my emotional flood gates. Before long it became too much.   
  
I began to need to slip out every night and go to some secluded area where I would sit in quiet. I went to a different place every night, as to lower the probability that I would be seen. I would put up wards to hide me from the world. If I were seen by anybody I would be disowned and I had too much pride for that.   
  
There was one day, when I was especially upset and I could hardly control my tears. I had just received a letter from my father, telling me that I would soon be required at a meeting. He had scolded me about how I had yet to beat Harry to the Snitch, or reach top of all of my classes. In general, he was disappointed in me. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but I just didn't need to hear it. I was lost in my thoughts for a very long time, sitting on a balcony somewhere in the school, tears streaming down my face when a small gasp broke my train of thought : I had forgotten to put up my wards.   
  
I turned around slowly and when I saw him, my heart jumped. He was beautiful really, something I never would have noticed during the day. He looked shocked to see me so scattered and forlorn. There was something else in his emerald eyes though, something I would never have expected to find there; there was sadness for me, he didn't want me to cry. In that moment I realised something. I didn't want to be crying. We stared into each others' eyes for what seemed like an eternity but probably only lasted a few seconds. Next thing I knew, his arms were around me and I felt alive in every place that he was touching me. This was what I had wanted, he was what I had been missing.   
  
Then it happened. I kissed him, or he kissed me, I'm not really sure. I think it would be most accurate to say that we kissed each other. It was electrifying, the most perfect thing I have ever felt in my life. And, twenty years later, it still feels that way every time we kiss.   



End file.
